And The Devil Smiled
by Southernbelles1403
Summary: Bella is head of Norte de Valle, Miami's only female mob boss. Beautiful, smart, and deadly she's afraid of no one and nothing. But how strong can she be when the one person she gives her heart to is not who she thinks he is? OOC, Mobella
1. Prologue

**A/N: Welcome readers to our new fic. We are so excited. This is just the prologue to give you a little taste. More coming soon. We don't own these characters.**

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You never know when you're going to die, and in my line of work, I cannot afford to think about that. I can't, for one second, let my guard down.

Being a female doesn't help much either.

I have come too far, and earned too much respect in this business to show weakness.

Edward is my only vice.

With my Glock pointed at his head, I am certain of three things.

The first being, he is an undercover DEA agent. Second, I was going to have to kill him and third, I am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.

He has to know this is it.

Looking into his eyes, I see no fear reflecting back at me. He isn't afraid to die; he definitely isn't afraid of me. This realization pisses me off. He has seen the things I have done and the pain I am capable of inflicting. Yet, the only thing reflecting back at me as we stare at one another is love.

My hand is shaking which also pisses me off. It just isn't like me to exhibit physical signs of apprehension. I steady my hand as I calmly speak.

"You've always been DEA, Edward, and I will always be Norte de Valle. They're a part of who we are. My question is, did you really think I would let you live after I found out who you are?"

He didn't waver. Looking me in the eye, he spoke. "No, Bella. I always knew you would kill me if you found out, and if the last thing I say to you is I love you, then for me, this was all worth it."

My hand starts to shake again. I have to kill the only man I have ever been in love with. The thought is unbearable, but I am only delaying the inevitable. I have to pull the trigger. I have to protect what I have built.

I have to protect my people.

"You shouldn't have fallen in love with a monster, Edward. You should have left when you saw how dangerous I am. You should have gone back to your superiors with the information you had and brought me down all those months ago. You shouldn't have to die at the hands of a woman who loves you."

His eyes flicker with surprise, but hold steady.

I level my gun right between his eyes as tears roll down my face, but make no move to wipe them. I can't remember a time in my life when I have cried, but this knowledge is not giving me pause. If I hesitate, I might let him go and everything will crumble down around me.

Sometimes love does not conquer all; especially in my line of work.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

I cry out, as my finger trembles over the trigger. I close my eyes.

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**Special thanks to SerenIn NC, Trixie Traci and PAWsPeaches for beta'ing and pre-reading...**


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: We don't own them, we just make them do what we want. This story will have violence, drug selling, smuggling, and use.**

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"**Mafia is a process, not a thing. Mafia is a form of clan-cooperation to which it's individual members pledge lifelong loyalty. Friendship, connections, family ties, trust, loyalty, obedience – this was the glue that held us together." – Joseph Bonanno**

I dread getting out of bed this morning. I just have an uneasy feeling in my gut, not to mention it's the tenth anniversary of, our father, Charlie's death. He was murdered in cold blood right in front of me. I was fifteen at the time.

So much has changed in the past ten years. Lying here, my memories take over.

I know of only three people I can trust with my life. Well, four if you count Pops, the person who handed Norte de Valle to me, at the age of twenty-one. Pops is my father's father, the man people say will be remembered for being one of the greatest fucking cartel bosses of all time. That man revolutionized how smuggling runs in Miami.

Of course, this isn't all Pops is known for. He is el Rey–head of the Colombian Mafia. He has his hands in a little bit of everything.

Pops had been grooming Charlie to take over for him when he was shot. Pops was devastated, and threw all his energy back into keeping Norte de Valle at the top of its drug game.

All my life, I knew that my family was Colombian Mafia. No one had ever kept it a secret from any of us, and even at the age of fifteen, hysterical over my father's death, I knew this life ran deep through my blood and my soul.

Shortly after Dad died, I went to Pops demanding that he start teaching me all the details of how the family was run. His response was loving and proud.

"Sassy, nothing would make me more proud than to see you, mi amor, take my place. It's about time the cartel sees a change. I can't wait until the day we swear you in and all hell breaks loose because there's a la Reina."

I was shocked to say the least. My Pops was old school and women did not run drug cartels. His acceptance and pride in my desire to run Norte de Valle let me know I was doing the right thing.

Despite the fact that my father and Pops never hid the business from me and taught me how to shoot a gun when I was eight, I truly didn't believe he would consider me a suitable boss.

Pops revealed everything to me when I turned eighteen, so I would be ready to take over once I was twenty-one. We went to our land in Colombia where he introduced me to Amun, Eleazar, and Alistair. They ran our farms where we harvested our Coca leaves and the labs where they made the purest cocaine in Colombia. I met the farmers and their families and learned that respecting these workers meant keeping our livelihood afloat. They were an integral part of our family, and Pops made sure I would never forget that.

I sat in on every meeting Pops had with his crew and his business associates: people from other families, pilots, captains, anyone that I needed to know. I heard every complaint and every problem. I began learning what solution to use in every situation and how to solve any problem that arose.

Rolling over, I look at the clock and realize I have been lying here for hours, thinking. I crawl out of bed and head for the shower, unable to shake this feeling that something is going to go down today.

After showering and dressing, I apply my make-up and straighten my hair. Ready for the day, I head down stairs.

I think I smell fresh brewed coffee and bacon as I enter the kitchen. Em and Tink are buzzing around making breakfast. They have always worked well cooking together and since we live with one another, this happens quite often. I, on the other hand, can't even boil pasta without messing it up.

"Good morning," I say, pouring myself a cup of java, and adding flavored creamer as I sit down at the island.

"Morning." Em replies without turning around.

Em has blonde curly hair, the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and a set of dimples that will melt your heart. He hates them because they earned him his nickname. He was hoping for a tougher name, I'm sure of this. Looks are deceiving, though, because Em is one of the most ruthless people I know, and believe me, I know some vile individuals.

We are family through and through. It doesn't matter that we have different DNA– we were raised together and always have each other's backs.

Soon after I started my path to take over the family business, Pops came to me asking who I wanted my Sargento to be. There was never a doubt or any hesitation about who I'd choose, Dimples-Pops started training Em, as well, once I'd declared him to be number two. He learned what the best Sargentos were made of: loyalty above all else, but also the organization and patience to follow up on my orders. Not only is Em excellent in carrying out my demands, but he definitely knows how to issue his own, when dealing with his crew.

"Morning, Sassy." Tink turns, giving me her 'happy it's morning' smile.

I am thirteen months older than Alice. People have told us for years we could pass for twins. We both have long brown hair. Alice has blond highlights where mine are red and she has grey eyes where mine are green. I have the street smarts, but my sister is a genius.

Pops started calling her Tink when she was six because she was always taking shit apart and tinkering with it. She is probably one of the smartest people I know. Computers, alarms, videos, security systems–anything that deals with electronics, she knows. Tink went to MIT and got a degree in Computer Science, which comes in handy in with our line of work.

Irina, Tink's and my egg donor, split just as soon as Tink was born, leaving Charlie to raise us girls. Charlie and the donor were only together a few months before finding out she was pregnant with me and she was fertile one because four months after I was born, she was knocked up with Tink. I guess she didn't want kids or to get married–because I know Dad asked. That bitch was only with him for his good looks, money, and the coke he was giving her. Thank God he cut her off once they found out she was pregnant.

We never missed Irina because we had Dad, Pops, and Carmen, who was like a mother to us. We all took to calling her GiGi... really not sure why or who started calling her that, but it stuck, and after Dad died, Tink and I moved in with Pops, GiGi, and the boys.

I roll my eyes thinking about our ridiculous nicknames. Shit, we have been calling each other by these names since we were little. No thanks to Pops–bastard knew they would stick.

"Where's Silvers?" I ask, watching Em and Tink closely. They glance at each other before shrugging.

I smile to myself thinking about Silvers. Paul was twelve when Pops finally gave him a nickname. That wasn't until after he got braces, of course. Little shit was so jealous we all had nicknames and he didn't. I know for damn sure he still wishes he didn't.

Paul is the youngest of us all. His dark hair and hazel eyes don't resemble his brother's in the slightest. He decided to head off to Yale for college, but felt the pull of the family after graduating, bringing an Accounting degree with him. Silvers is my money man; the dude can run numbers like nobody's business. He makes sure my ass is covered on all monetary levels.

I'm sure he's making sure Tanya's ass is covered at the moment. Em and Tink might be clueless as to his whereabouts, but he doesn't fool me. I know he's with Tanya. They all think I don't know about them, but I've known since I hired her a few years back, to manage the club. I guess they think it will bother me, since Silvers and I have history, but there are no romantic feelings between us anymore. We just had all of our firsts together. I love him in that platonic, chronic sort of way.

Our bloodline ended with Tink and me, and even though Em and Paul were family, they weren't blood. I know Pops was thinking that Em could handle being boss, because Em's dad, Sam, was Pops' Sargento before he was killed in cross fire back in the mid eighties. Em was five and Paul was just an infant when Sam died. Pops and Sam were like brothers, and he raised those boys as if they were his own. It's ironic because Pops and Carmen, Em and Paul's mother, ended up married.

The four of us had been through a lot together and I was glad to have them here with me today.

Just as we are finishing breakfast my phone rings. Looking at the caller-id, I see it's Phil and I immediately know something has happened. Anger boils inside me.

"What is it?" I demand.

"Isabella, we have a big problem." I hear him taking steps as he exhales a deep breath before speaking. "Seventy-five keys are missing from the warehouse."

Standing up, I start pacing around the room. "I must have heard you wrong, Phil. WHAT did you say?" I ask, making sure I heard him right. I glance at Tink and Em but they have confused looks on their faces.

"Seventy-five keys are missing. Laurent and Alec were supposed to be here two hours ago." His tone is hard.

"And you haven't heard from them?" I hiss.

"No, neither is answering their phone. They were on their final run from the boat when I last spoke to Alec. I haven't heard from them since."

"Stay put, I'm on it," I tell him and hang up. I will get back to him later.

"Sassy," Em calls, getting my attention. I cock my head and give him a side-eyed glance, but remain quiet as I think.

I am baffled that someone intercepted our shipment. We always have that shit on lock-down. That's a ton of fucking coke to be lost, not to mention, my profit. That's the shit that pisses me off the most–YOU DON'T FUCK WITH MY MONEY. Feeling my blood begin to boil, I take a deep breath, slowly releasing it.

"Sassy, snap the fuck out of it. Tell us what's going on," Em says in a raised voice. Yes, Em can talk to me like that; him and about three others. For anyone else, it is disrespectful.

"Some of the shipment is missing. Call Paul, tell him to get his ass here and we'll have a sit down." I say, as I-head to my office.

This is exactly how I expected this day to go, I think as I look out my office window.

My house is on the shores of Biscayne Bay in the Tahiti Beach neighborhood of Miami, and looking out I can see blue water all around, which I love because it means I can go anywhere by boat or car. There are palm trees all over the estate. I have plenty of space for my cars. Basically, this house is my serenity in my crazy ass life.

It isn't too long before I hear Tink's heels coming down the hall, pulling me out of my thoughts. Turning away from my view, I head to my desk and sit down.

"Em talked to Paul and he will be here in fifteen," Tink says, as she sits down on the couch.

"Alright, we'll get down to business as soon as the guys get here." This isn't my favorite part of this job, but I live to take motherfuckers down. Being the first la Reina in my family and at my age, I have to keep my balls in the game. Figuratively speaking, of course.

Emmett waltzes into the room. "Have we started yet?" he asks, knowing full well I won't start without everyone present.

Before I can speak, Paul walks through the door, his hair looking thoroughly just- fucked. I know he was with Tanya.

"Welcome," I say theatrically, glaring at him. Dude actually has the audacity to look pleased with himself.

Instead of giving him a snide comment, like I want, I choose to begin. "I would like to know how seventy-five kilos of my cocaine has disappeared."

Tink looks me in the eye, and I can tell my sister feels like shit. Whenever things go wrong or slip through the cracks, which isn't often, the girl takes full responsibility.

"Nothing's off on surveillance is it, Tink?" I ask, knowing she would have told us if anything was out of the ordinary.

She shakes her head vehemently before speaking. "No, nothing unusual."

"Em, when's the last time you spoke to Laurent and Alec?" I ask, shifting my attention towards him.

"I spoke to them several hours ago and everything was on point," Em answers.

"Who all knows the route for today?" I ask, looking around.

Em holds up a hand. "Me, Paul, Phil, Tink, Alec and Laurent. Garrett and Peter have their own orders. They don't know the others' plans."

Paul speaks up. "We need to get this shit settled as soon as fucking possible. Phil has meetings set up with the buyers tonight."

I tap my hand on the table and think. They wait patiently as I play out all scenarios in my head. After a few minutes, I speak. "Tink, I want twenty-four hour surveillance on Garrett and Peter, as well as making sure the boat's surveillance system is intact by the time they leave on their next run. We're going to be using the fishing boat, Luna, this time around." I have a fishing fleet that I use as a means to get my shipments onshore. I look at Tink curiously. "What boat did Garrett and Peter come in on this morning?"

"They came in on the Sol and landed at the spot down in the Everglades. I have the coordinates if you need them," she replies, waiting to see where I'm going with this. In truth, I don't know. I just want answers.

"As far as I know they are still with the boat, because they haven't gotten the all clear yet since Laurent and Alec haven't checked in," Em interrupts.

I make my decision quickly after that piece of information given. "Em, go out to Garrett and Peter and see if you can find anything amiss. Try to find Laurent and Alec while you're out there. Maybe you'll pick something up on your way."

Tink speaks up and reminds us that Alec and Laurent took three different routes to the warehouse this morning. She gives Em the coordinates of the last known route. I tell Em to follow Tink's coordinates to the Glades.

I turn back to Tink. "I want you to get a couple guys to watch Phil around the clock. I hate to be suspicious of any of them, considering the length of time they've been working for the family but I can't let this go."

"I agree, I'll ask some of the guys if they've noticed anything off. We can't have our customers getting pissed off because we can't supply the product. Our shit might be the best, but these fuckers will go elsewhere for their supplies if we give them the chance," Tink says while shaking her head like she is answering herself.

"I'll get in touch with the Italians, Irish, and Russians and let them know their supplies will be short for now, or until we get more in," I sigh. Hopefully I can smooth things over quickly with our buyers.

"Sassy, I'll run the numbers and let you know how much of a hit we'll take because of this. You know it's not going to be pretty," Paul remarks, knowing how losing money pisses me off.

I clench my hands into fists and feel my blood pressure rising. "This stops now. Do not let this fucking happen again, understand? I want to know the minute you've got the bastards who are stealing from me."

Silvers and Dimples smirk at me, menacingly. Yeah, they know I am out for blood. I can almost see Tink's hand twitch for the Berretta she keeps on her at all times. Tink might lock herself in what we call her "grotto" for days, but she always came out on point. That bitch can shoot a moving target right on point. She is as deadly as any of us, but hides it better.

Everyone stands up to go their separate ways, each one with a job to do. In this erratic lifestyle, shit is about to get crazy.

I need to pull my strength from everything I've been taught, to get through this. I sent the other three to get to the bottom of this but my job is not only to delegate, but to solve my own problems as well.

I am a goddamn la Reina and when I get my hands on the motherfuckers who stole my coke, they'll know exactly who they are dealing with. No one is walking away with seventy five kilos of my coke with a smile on their faces.

I walk out onto my balcony and rest my hands on the railing. Thoughts are racing through my head, over and over. I know someone has turned on me, but I need hard evidence of it. I will wait to see what the other three come up with and then make my decision... a decision that may very well change the dynamic of this family.

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**A/N: Special thanks to PAWsPeaches and Shahula for pre-reading and helping get this in order. SereneIn Nc and Trixie Traci you are a lifesaver and we can't thank you enough for beta'ing this for us. Momo we****hope you can join us on the next chapter. We have mad love for you all.**

**Big thanks to all that have read, reviewed, alerted and favorited. We will have chapter 2 out soon. It will be Epov. We are so excited...**

**Some of this story will be based off of facts and some made up. It is fan fiction, people. This being said, we are going with a Colombian Mafia that is made up and some-what based off the Norte de Valle, which is a real drug cartel. Here are meanings of terms from chapter 1 in order which they appeared.**

**El Rey- King, but we are going with male boss**

**Mi Amor- My Love**

**La Reina- Queen, we are going with female boss**

**Sargento- Second in command**

**Keys- Kilo**

**Thanks for reading. Let us know what you think, if you want.**

**See y'all soon.**

**Xoxo,**

**SouthernBelles**


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: We don't own them- we just make them do what we want. This story will have violence, drug selling, smuggling, and drug use. Sexy times of course and a whole lot more...**

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**All human actions have one or more of these seven causes: chance, nature, compulsion, habit, reason, passion, desire. ~ Aristotle**

**EPOV**

The palms above me blow with the breeze as Lola pads up from the yard to come and rest beside me on the deck. I take a deep drag of my smoke and give Lola a smile when I look down at her. My girl is such a sweetheart. I run my hand behind her soft ear and give her a quick rub as she paws at my leg. Her loyal eyes let me know that she would do anything I ask if I just rub right there, a little more.

I have a soft spot for Lola. Just three years ago, she was a small, soft bundle of chunky paws and furry rolls. Now, she's a solid, seventy-five pound English bulldog with a shiny coat of white and brown that sheds all over the place. She keeps me company when life gets lonely, which happens every now and again.

I glance at my watch, still waiting on Seth to get here. We have to ride down to Overtown to pick up some money that a couple of guys there owe me. I'm _that_ guy. I get their kickbacks for the week.

Overtown is no joke, and even though I know the dudes who run it, I don't take going there lightly. I reach my arm around, checking to make sure my piece is tucked into the back of my pants. My fingers touch steel and the knowledge that I'll use it, if the need arises, whispers softly through my mind. Fuckers in Overtown don't care who they take out. The fact of the matter is, I'm a white boy heading into their turf and not everyone respects Norte de Valle.

I've had street cred with these guys for a while now, but I only mess with a few of them, and not often at that. I only come around to collect what they owe me and to supply their Miami Cold; other than that, I don't fuck with them.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I read a text from Seth.

**Yo, be there in 10**

I don't even bother replying to him. Walking to the door, I call Lola to come in. Her bowl looks almost empty, so I grab it and fill it with water before putting her in her room.

"Don't you give me those eyes. I won't be long, girl," I say, patting her big head as she wags her nub of a tail.

As I head into the bathroom to take a piss, I can feel Seth's bass shaking the wall. Dumb-ass has got to learn to turn that shit down when he comes over here.

I pass by to give Lola one last pat on the head before I leave. "You be a good girl."

I gather my things, lock up the house and glare at Seth as I walk towards his ugly-ass, lime-green Ford Pinto.

Seth grins at me as I slide into the front seat. "Turn the goddamn music down, man. This ain't the fuckin' ghetto." I throw my backpack in the back seat while he does what I ask.

Seth laughs at my sour expression. "Stop being such a bitch. I keep forgetting you live in a family neighborhood, man. My bad."

I do, in fact, live in a family neighborhood, as he calls it. Before moving to Hollywood, I wanted a low key area where no one knew me and when I was done with work, I could come home and relax without worrying. It's what, I guess, you'd call a suburb of Miami but there are so many damn people here in South Florida, that 'suburb' is a liberal term. My house is nothing special and unassuming, just how I like.

"Just remember next time. You know, I try to lay low around here." I adjust my seat so that I can stretch a little. "Your car is an attention-grabber as it is. How do you drive this piece of shit, man?" I eye the tiny-ass back seat. "And it's fucking lime-green. I feel like I'm in Kermit the Frog's stomach every time I get in this thing," I say, shaking my head at him.

He smirks and gives the dashboard an affectionate pat. "Lima is a beautiful lady, Ace. Why don't you ever show her any love?"

I try not to laugh, but my best friend with his car is too much. Side-eying Seth, I turn up the Bone Thugs 'N Harmony that he was previously blaring. I won't dignify his ridiculous question with an answer. I don't particularly care one way or another about his car. The lime green is obnoxious, but he loves it. I just like ragging on him.

Seth and I have been friends since we were in foster care together when we were four.

_I'd been there about a year before Seth arrived, and he immediately made things better. Seth's birth mother dropped him off at a firehouse when he was two. She had no concept that technically you were only allowed to drop off infants under a week old to be covered by the safe haven. He stayed in the system until he aged out at eighteen._

_He'd always been smaller than me. He was a gangly kid- all arms and long legs, but he was funny and even at four years old, I was drawn to him. We were inseparable, sharing a room and GI Joe men, while playing together, as well._

_My parents, on the other hand, were murdered when I was three. I have zero details about their deaths, other than they were shot in our home and for some reason, I was spared. I had no other family to speak of, so I became a number in the system. The Department of Children and Families in Florida isn't something you ever want to get involved with. It's both overpopulated and under-funded._

_Four years after Seth and I met, we were separated._

_My adoptive parents, Carlisle and Esme Masen, found me at eight years old. I left my foster family and Seth behind to move into a brand new house in Naples, Florida. I'd always known how lucky I was to have finally been adopted, so I never asked any questions back then._

_Through the years, I thought a lot about Seth- wondering where he was living and what he was up to. It wasn't until years later that we ran into each other again. It was the summer after my freshman year of high school. There was a group of us that decided to head over to Fort Myers Beach for the day. We were on the beach playing volleyball when I heard someone calling my name. It turned out to be Seth, but I didn't recognize him. He had grown into those long legs and arms and was a solid kid at 5'8"._

_We did the one armed hug thing and, immediately, it was like no time had passed. It turned out Seth was with a new foster family in Fort Myers and had become quite the entrepreneur. We started hanging out and he supplied me with whatever drug my friends and I wanted. We had a good three years, but lost track of each other after we both graduated._

_The next time I saw Seth was five years ago, when I stumbled across him in Little Havana. He was still selling, but had broadened his horizons. He was a street slinger for a crew that worked under the Norte de Valle- the Colombian Mafia._

_At the time, I was slinging my own shit that I bought from some fat Puerto Rican dude down on 8th Street. I had made a name for myself, and people around parts of Miami had begun to recognize what I was capable of pushing._

_Seth and I began to chill again and he introduced me to his boys. Most of them were of Colombian descent, but a few were white boys like Seth and me._

_Before long, they took notice to the amount I was hustling on my own and became interested in what I could move for them. They had the purest shit in the city and the Norte de Valle behind them. They were practically untouchable._

_Months passed and I was finally introduced to Emmett- el Sargento, second to Isabella. Emmett was also an Almirante as well. He had his own crew that dispensed powder to the eager citizens of Miami._

_Emmett was interested in my ability as a dealer and wanted me to start dealing for him. It was a pretty sweet deal- one that I couldn't refuse. I'd be buying my own kilos from him for cheap, transferring them to my __guys__ at a higher cost, plus keeping 10% for myself, and then giving the rest of the profits to him. I stayed at the bottom of his crew as a Cabo for a few years before I moved up in ranks._

_In just three short years, Emmett bumped me from a Cabo to a Cabo Primero. I was one of Emmett's go to guys, pushing ten keys or more of coke in a good week. I earned Emmett's respect and trust during this time._

It takes about twenty-five minutes to get to Overtown from my house and I can feel myself immediately tensing up when we pull off the 95, riding into one of the worst places in Miami. The houses are either abandoned or falling apart. Stray dogs have the run of the neighborhood. People are always hanging out in the streets. If you spend the night here, believe me, the rumors are true. Gunshots riddle the darkness.

I hear Seth take a deep breath. "Man, I used to sling here, but nothing makes me more nervous than coming here. I fuckin' hate it, yo."

Agreeing, I pull out my phone, dialing Pookie's number without looking. You're a stupid fuck if you aren't scanning your surroundings at all times, around here.

"Yo," he answers.

"Around the corner," I reply, rubbing my hand over my head.

Pookie hangs up and Seth makes the turn. A couple blocks later we pull into the driveway of one of the nicest houses around this place, if you can even call it that. Seth cuts the engine as I grab my backpack and get out.

A couple guys are hanging on the front porch playing dice. They look at us as we make our way up the steps and through the front door. Pookie's boys are down and have known both of us for years.

We follow the noise of a card game going on in the house, which leads us to our boy who's smoking a blunt and throwing down cards in a game of Spades.

"Ace, what up, bro?" he asks, grinning, a mouthful of gold teeth sparkling in the light.

"Same shit."

Pookie nods his head to his boy. "Get white-boy his money, nigga." He takes another drag and blows the smoke out. "What's good?" he asks me, and gestures to the sofa. I'm chill with Pookie and feel pretty comfortable in his house, so I take a seat and Seth slouches next to me.

"You good this week?" Pookie asks, passing the blunt my way. I hit it a couple times and send it to my left.

"Yeah," I choke, blowing out smoke.

Pookie's a big player in Overtown. He sells two to three keys a week. In this area there is another demand that he supplies. He takes our coke and mixes it with sodium bicarbonate, commonly referred to as baking soda, to make crack. I don't fuck around with that shit, but he knows his customers. As long as he pays me, my job is done. Basically, we supply him with coke and he gives us the money for the kilos he needs, plus 10% of the profits he makes.

"5-0's been hot so business has been slow, but I'm cool. I'll re-up in a few days. I'll let you know."

I give him a quick glance, standing up when his boy comes back with a paper bag. "We good?" I question, feeling the weight.

"Man, what's my name?" Pookie grins, showing all his gold. He is a trustworthy motherfucker, despite his occupation. He has not been short once in all my years of dealing with him. Throwing the bag of cash in my backpack, I slap his outstretched hand. I know that all forty g's are in the bag without counting it.

"See you next week." I throw up my three fingers and walk out.

Seth trails close behind and we make it to the car without a problem. I have a ton of money on me and the fuckers in this neighborhood know what I'm here for, so we need to be careful getting out of here. I tuck my backpack under the seat as I sit down and pull my gun, keeping it low and out of sight. Seth turns the ignition over, pulling out onto the street. The faster we move, the better.

I put my gun away when we get back on 95, heading to our next stop, Little Havana. It's really not that far from Overtown but a different world completely.

My boy Jose sells a ton of white over there each week. I hooked him up with my shit a few years back, and the man never went back to his old contact. He deals exclusively with Norte de Valle now.

Hitting up Jose, I let him know we'll be there in a few. He and his crew like to hang out on the corner of 10th Street and 12th Avenue. As we pull up, he steps up to the car and hands me a sack. He knows what will happen if it's short. I let him know I will be back around in a few days. He pounds my fist and walks away. We never hang out like we do with Pookie.

Just as I am about to call Emmett, my phone rings and I shift my junk as I bring the phone to my ear and answer.

"What's up, man?"

"Ace, meet me down at the docks. Shit's going down and we gotta take care of some things," Emmett spits out in a rushed tone.

"Headed that way, cuz. Just left lil H. Be there as soon as I can," I tell him, and he's gone. What's with these fuckers just hanging up on me? I will never get that shit.

I turn to Seth. "Change of plans. Take me to the docks, Emmett's gonna pick me up from there," I state, staring out the window.

He tilts his head. "What's up?" I shrug, because I really don't have a clue.

"You going to the club tonight?" Seth asks, as we drive.

"I usually do," I answer him with a laugh.

Isabella Swan, la Reina of Norte de Valle, runs one of the hottest clubs in this city, Caliente. The place is dope. It's three clubs in one: Night Club, Exotic Dance Club, and an Ultra Lounge outside oasis with cabana seating. The dance club is on the bottom floor, but the second floor is my personal favorite; the strip club that has some pretty fine women. The outside lounge is laid back; you can see the water from just about anywhere there.

Seth laughs, shaking his head. "You have got to stop fucking strippers, man."

"Why? It's easy. They come to me and don't expect anything."

"And who are you to refuse?"

"Would you?" I ask, smirking.

Really, I don't sleep with a lot of them, just two, Lavinia and Nevaeh. Believe me, they are the hottest dancers in the club. They aren't all strung out and shit. Lavinia's a massage therapist who loves money and the art of pole dancing. Neveah is in school getting a law degree and says dancing easy work for a lot of money. I have actually become pretty close with them both, but it ain't love or anything like it.

As we pull into Key Biscayne, getting closer to the docks, I spot Em's murdered out Yukon Denali. Seth could learn a thing or two from him. His Denali is painted a flat black with tricked out black wheels. Seth's piece of shit is nothing in comparison.

Seth drops me off a few blocks away. Getting out, I give him a pound and tell him I will see him at the club tonight.

Wondering what the fuck is up, I walk towards Em's car.

He gives me a head nod saying, "We don't have all day, Ace. Get your ass in da Nali."

"What up, bro? What's so important anyways?"

"Phil called Bella this morning and seventy-five kilos are missing, along with Alec and Laurent," he states flatly.

Alec and Laurent are old school fuckers; they've been with the family for years. Even I know it's unusual for shit to go wrong when they're moving the shipments.

"No, shit, dude... What's the plan?" I ask as I roll the window down and light a smoke.

"We're heading out to the Glades. Garrett and Peter are still out there. We need to have a chat with them and see if we can locate Alec and Laurent. I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, in case I miss something." Emmett's a pretty laid back guy, but his voice lets me know how stressed he is.

We head west on the 41 heading into the Glades. I've been with Em on runs before, each time it's a different spot. They sure do have this smuggling thing mapped out.

We turn off the interstate and head deeper into the swamp, eventually turning onto a dirt road. I know we are getting close and as we come closer I spot a boat off at a distance, knowing that it's Garrett and Peter.

Emmett makes a call saying it's us and hangs up.

Peter and Garrett are pretty chill guys. We all hang out at the club and handle shit for Emmett since we are on his crew. They know the ocean like the backs of their hands.

Norte de Valle has each boat completely decked out with the highest technology available. Apparently, Isabella's sister, Alice, is a genius, and sneaky as hell, too.

Emmett and I hop out, walking through the mud and mangroves. I hope I don't see a snake. Swear to God, I'm not scared of much in life, but fuckin' water moccasins make me want to run as fast as my ass can take me. I watch extra carefully as I take each step because I remember seeing a documentary on the National Geographic channel the other day. A python, which used to be a pet, ate a motherfucking alligator. What the fuck?

Now that I am on high alert for alligator-eating snakes and trying to appear nonchalant, I anxiously shake hands with Peter and Garrett. They're white boys from farm country in the Redlands and Homestead, who grew up around the Glades. Aro, Emmett's Pops, had known these two for decades.

They both have ponytails, lanky tall forms, and look like they smoke way too much weed. I get along with them because of their laid back attitudes. It's refreshing in this business.

Emmett lights up a smoke and walks around the boat. I don't know what he's looking for so I decide to talk to these two. "They were cool when they left here?" I ask, looking at Garrett.

He shrugs his shoulders and nods. "Yeah, man, both of them were like they always are... bickering over stupid shit. Alec, with his rain cloud following him everywhere, was saying they were being followed, and Laurent was cursing him out in Spanish and saying he was a pessimist for thinking that. You know them; they're like an old fucking married couple."

I laugh out loud, but internally I'm debating if there is any truth to Alec's thought on being followed. I know he's a paranoid dude, but considering he's now missing, he could've been right this time.

"Nothing else was shady?"

"Not a thing," Peter speaks up. "I've been running a long time for this family, Ace. They didn't take that coke."

I look at him curiously. "Why do you say that?"

"They have loyalty. They might bitch and moan, driving me crazy, but they have respect for what they do."

I shake my head and turn to Emmett, who's finishing his walk through of the boat. "All good?"

He nods and approaches Garrett and Peter. "Get her to the slip," he says, both of them agreeing. Before we're back to our car, they're already pushing off the bank and turning over the engines. I get back into the whip and look to Emmett.

"It wasn't them," he says quietly, in thought.

"No, they think Laurent and Alec are loyal enough not to betray the family."

Emmett slams his hand down on the steering wheel. "Then what the fuck happened? Where the hell are they?"

Emmett peels out, mud flying everywhere, and hits the road. It's twilight and my eyes are adjusting to the darkness. As I watch the scenery fly by, a flash of light catches my eye. "Yo, turn back!" I yell, and Emmett pulls a quick u-ie.

Sure enough, we can make out what looks like the chrome end of an SUV hidden within the brush. To me, it looks like someone drove the thing off the side of the road but didn't get quite far enough.

"Fuck!" Emmett screams, getting out.

"Man, it's really hard to tell if that's their Suburban," I state, as I take a closer look.

Emmett doesn't reply. He already has the phone to his ear.

"Sassy, we got something. I'm guessing it's Alec and Laurent's vehicle." He pauses. "Yeah, I'll call them. I'll be there in a few hours," he tells her and hangs up.

Emmett jumps down the embankment to shine the light of his cell phone on the license plate. "Yeah, it's theirs," he grumbles.

I make my way down to the SUV and peer into the dark windows. I can't make anything out clearly, but I'm sure nobody is in there.

"Nobody in here," I call to Emmett.

He makes another call as we walk back up to the side of the road, telling them the SUV location and where to move it.

"Come on, Ace. I got some other shit to take care of at the club. I want you on the main floor tonight. Shit's about to get ugly."

The drive back to my house is quiet. We're both lost in our own thoughts. Pulling up in front of my house, I remember, I haven't taken my cut of the money I collected today.

"Yo, I'll bring your share to the club. Give me about an hour and I'll be there," I tell him with a fist bump. He shakes his head and pulls off.

Walking in, I head straight to Lola to let her out. I know Bree, the neighbor's kid, has been over to take care of her, but I still feel bad for leaving her for hours.

Making a detour, I grab a couple of beers out of the fridge and head out back with Lola. Sitting down, I light a smoke, open my beer, and take a long drink.

After finishing off my beers, I head in to wash the day's funk off of me. My eyes are bothering me and I decide to take my contacts out before getting in the shower. Putting drops in them helps and they're already feeling better.

I step into the shower; the hot water relaxing me by the second. My mind starts wondering if I am going to get a chance to see my girls tonight at the club. With my head tilted back, under the spray of water, I feel my cock twitch to life. The female body is a damn sexy thing. I take my length into my left hand and slowly start to stroke it, pumping from the base all the way up to the head, over and over again, gaining momentum with each stroke. I spread my legs and grip just a little tighter, pumping faster and faster as I think about Lavinia's long slender legs wrapping around my waist. I put a hand out to brace myself against the shower wall and my stomach starts to flutter. My quads tense up and I know my release is coming – pun intended. I pick up my pace, pumping harder and faster with every stroke. My release is fast and long. My head falls forward and I sigh, feeling much more relaxed.

After tossing on some black dress pants and a blue button up, I'm almost ready to go. I don't have to do shit to my hair anymore, not that I could coerce it before, because it's had a mind of its own since I got it buzzed off a few months back.

I head towards my office to split the money up. I take my cut, thirty-two grand, put two g's in my pocket for tonight, and the other thirty in my hidden safe.

With Lola put up, I head out back to my baby. I turn over the engine and she rumbles to life. I take a moment, like always, to appreciate the feel of her vibration.

My 69' Chevy Camaro is the love of my life. I've had her for a while now and she never lets me down. How can I be lonely with the two women I have in my life? Lola and this naughty girl are all I need. I back out of my driveway and hit the street, not testing her power 'til I hit the freeway. Not even a cop can catch me now.

I pull up to the club and open the glove box to find Emmett's money that I'd stuffed in there on the drive here. I take it out, stuffing it into the waistband of my pants, before exiting my car. I spot Manny and toss the keys to him while saying, "Keep her safe," as I walk through the doors.

The steady bass of the music hits my ears. It's a remix of an old school Uncle Luke jam. Down here, Uncle Luke reigns. Man is a legend and parties with the best of them. He's also one of my best customers.

I hit the club floor and take a minute to appreciate how nice this place really is. I rarely come down here, but I can acknowledge what a great spot it is. A center bar is the focal point, with a huge glass Chihully ball of fire suspended from the ceiling. It is modeled after the one found in the arena where the Miami Heat plays. The sound and lighting systems are state-of-the-art and truly mind-blowing. I make my way up to the bar, watching the chicks dance. One thing about Miami women...they are fucking hot. All the Spanish genes make for fat asses and beautiful tits. I love all women, but they breed them perfect down here. Brazilian, Cuban, Argentinean... I love them all. Hell, I'd even take a hot-blooded Colombian.

I nod at the bartender when she glances my way. I think her name is Monica. I've seen her before and she sometimes tends bar upstairs. "A Yuengling," I call.

As I wait for my beer, Emmett's big ass catches my eye. He glances my way and grins. I immediately see who he is with and my eyes are drawn to her, surrounded by her two bodyguards. She's wearing a blood red dress that shows off her nice ass. I can't take my eyes off of her. Her entourage begins to walk my way, and as she gets closer, her eyes meet mine. Bright green. Fuck me. Isabella Swan is a goddess, and a deadly one at that. One eyebrow arches as she looks at me, then as quickly as she walks by, she is gone.

Since I've been around the club before and am close with Emmett, I've seen her before, it's always been from afar though. She's always surrounded by her bodyguards and no one gets close, except for family and people she trusts. Just because I've known Emmett for a few years doesn't mean I'm automatically trusted by Isabella.

Looking around the club and lost in my head, I feel a hand wrapping around my forearm, pulling me. I turn my head, not liking being manhandled, and my stomach hits the goddamn floor.

"Rosalie!"

* * *

**DUN, DUN, DUN!**

**A/N: Hope y'all loved meeting AceWard as much as we loved writing him...**

**SereneIn NC and Trixie Traci, thank you so much for beta'ing this sucker. We know we suck at tenses, comma's and all that other grammar crap. Pawspeaches, you are a life-saver, thank you for supporting and helping us makes this pretty. Shahula, thank you for pre-reading this and giving us your thoughts.**

**To all our readers, reviewers and the alerts, thank you from the bottom of our hearts for taking the time to give this little ole thing a chance.**

**Some of this story will be based off of facts and some made up. It is fan fiction, people. That being said, we are going with a Colombian Mafia that is made up and some-what based off of the Norte de Valle, which is a real drug cartel. Here are meanings of terms from chapter 2 in the order which they appeared.**

**Kickbacks- Money**

**el Sargento- Second in command**

**Almirante- is a captain, like the Italian Mafia**

**Cabo- is a soldier, like the Italian Mafia**

**Cabo Primero- is a capo, like the Italian Mafia**

**la Reina- Queen, we are going with female boss**

**Caliente- Hot in Spanish**

**Whip- car**

**Chihully- Artist known for his glass sculptures**

**Please let us know what you guys think. We would love to hear from you all. If reviewing isn't your thing you can find us a couple of places...**

**Twitter: surething302**

**Facebook: Jo Kline**

**Sassy is up next... See y'all on the flip side.**

**Xoxo,**

**Southernbelles**


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